


The Ride

by indigo_inks



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Impregnation, Size Difference, Smut, Two-Dicked Centaurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-27 04:16:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_inks/pseuds/indigo_inks
Summary: Bedelia goes for a ride.





	The Ride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heeroluva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/gifts).

“And where have you been gone to all afternoon?”

“I was out riding, Father,” Bedelia replies as she smooths down the front of her smock.

“Ah, I see, I see! You always have loved the horses, haven’t you, my dear? Just like your mother.” His smile is indulgent and affectionate.

Mother. Motherhood. Funny that, that he should mention motherhood…

Bedelia mirrors his smile; _her_ smile, unlike her father’s, does not equal agreement. She does not bother to tell her father precisely _what_ manner of riding she’d been doing…

* * *

She _has_ always loved the horses; that much is true.

When she was a girl, she always rode bareback. This was the best part of her childhood – her thighs straddling those broad, muscular flanks and her fingers tangled in that long, coarse mane. And although she’d had to start using the saddle after she grew old enough to begin wearing the skirts and smocks of a young lady, she soon managed to find…_other_…sources of riding pleasure in the wood beyond the village common.

“Bedelia,” he says before she’s even dismounted.

“Atren,” she replies.

Centaurs are few and far between these days in the Crown Counties, but Atren has been Herd Master here for as long as she has been alive. It’s amazing to think, for with his shiny coat and unblemished skin, he looks no older than Bedelia.

“How long do you have?” he asks.

“All afternoon,” she replies as she raises her skirts. She is naked underneath, and she is ready.

They embrace, and he lifts her up by the waist and pins her to the smooth, silvery trunk of a birch tree. When he kisses her, his mouth tastes of grain and clover honey. She can feel him rising – so quickly! – brushing her clitoris and probing the tender folds beneath, seeking entry…

As a centaur, Atren is two-bodied, and like all two-bodied men, he has two cocks as well. The first is at his front, where the human’s waist meets the stallion’s forelegs. This cock is generously proportioned but otherwise human-sized. The second of Atren’s two cocks is where a stallion’s should be, and it is, unsurprisingly, stallion-sized.

Two-bodied men are always male; there are no female centaurs. As such, centaurs like Atren are capable of reproducing with both mares and women. In either case, however, _both_ organs of generation are required. Penetration by one cock only, whether the man’s or the stallion’s, is not sufficient for successful fertilization.

They have used this quirk of Atren’s biology to their advantage on many previous occasions. This afternoon is to be different.

“Yeessss…” Bedelia moans as Atren’s human cock slides its way home into the wet warmth of her cunt. He fits so perfectly inside her, stretching her, filling her like they were made for each other, his length matching hers perfectly so that he caresses her cervix with the tip of him at the apex of each stroke.

She lifts her legs and wraps them around Atren’s waist, resting her heels on his sweat-damp back as he thrusts, first slowly, deeply, in and out, in and out, in and out, in until they are crushed together, chest to chest, out until he is nearly out of her completely, the flared head of his cock catching on the tight ring of her opening and preventing complete separation. Gradually, his thrusts accelerate, becoming fast and shallow, and Bedelia throws her head back against the tree truck, exposing her neck for him to lick, to bite, to suck, shaking her so that her entire body rocks to his rhythm and even her small, pert breasts bounce as he pushes himself into her again and again and again.

“Ohhh,” Atren moans, the rumble seeming to originate from the depths of his multiple stomachs. He loses his rhythm and begins to orgasm. He grinds himself into her when he ejaculates, a half dozen gentle spurts of warmth, but before he’s even finished, he pulls out, rears up onto his hind legs, and pushes the second of his two cocks into her.

_This_ cock is does not fit her like it belongs there. _This_ cock is a stallion’s cock, thicker than the thickest human’s, and much, much longer. She can take only a small portion of it, and nevertheless it pushes, pushes, _pushes_, so fiercely that it would punch through her cervix if it could and explore the interior of her womb itself. He does not hold her against the tree anymore; he does not hold her at all; and only his massive bulk keeps her upright. Only his massive stallion’s cock keeps her upright…

The stallion in Atren is remorseless, thrusting not with the rhythm of a lover but rather an animal, and when he ejaculates the second time, he floods her with so much semen that it pours down her inner thighs in thick, branched rivulets. And he keeps right on ejaculating, until she imagines that he is making her belly swell with his seed, until the fullness makes her own ecstasy overflow. Bedelia comes too, shrieking, with only Atren the centaur to hear her.

He gives one last thrust that rattles her teeth in her skull as the last weak spurt is expelled from his cock, and this, the absolute finality of Atren’s completion, makes her come again.

“Do you think I will conceive?” Bedelia asks him afterwards. She is draped languidly over Atren’s back as they rest together. Her skirt hides the ruinous mess between her legs.

“If not, we can try again,” he says.

“I’ll be shocked if it becomes necessary,” she admits. “But when has ‘necessary’ ever stopped us?”

Ah yes, this had been a most fantastic ride indeed.

* * *

“…Bedelia…? Bedelia, you were a million miles away.”

“Sorry, Father.” She thinks she just about manages to look contrite.

“Ah well, never you mind. Why don’t you go wash up and get ready for dinner? The Sunday roast will be ready soon, and it’s sure to be delicious.”

“Yes, Father,” Bedelia agrees readily. “That sounds wonderful. I’m completely famished. I could eat enough for two!”

She rubs her belly knowingly as she takes her leave to do as she is told. Her father didn’t quite pick up on the implication, but soon enough she’ll be showing, and soon enough, he will.


End file.
